The adventures and various works of a photographer, road tripper, former patron of the local arts, aspiring app developer, and late night coffee drinker and conversationalist.
When it comes to my most significant artistic endeavors, I haven't always operated alone. About a decade and a half ago, I was part of a collaborative project at Bill's Records on South Lamar (now Botham Jean Blvd.) with my longtime friend and occasional co-conspirator Alex Pogosov. The project was a reincarnation of an earlier open mic which ran from 2002-2006 at Bill's old location off Spring Valley in far north Dallas. The Lost Art Open Mic, as this later enterprise came to be known, began in May 2010 and ran until early June 2011, and has been chronicled on this site since some of its earliest days. Looking back at all the open mic nights we conducted, there are some that stand out as great successes, and others that I don't recall quite so fondly. Generally those not so fond remembrances are related to instances of low attendance or lackluster performances (or, in two cases, because I felt our event was hijacked). But there's one night in particular that I have largely avoided facing for a long time, one I've always been loath to revisit and hesitant to talk much about. And it isn't because no one showed up or because we had a uniquely terrible performer appear who tortured our ears with a blistering sonic assault. It's a night that became stigmatized in my memory due to the series of events that followed it and the impact they had on one of the primary contributors to our scene. And I'm finally going to talk about it here.
Just a quick update here about a Houston bookstore I was introduced to a couple of years ago, and that I decided to pay a second visit to on a recent trip back to H-town. Becker's Books is a small, independently run bookstore, one of those places where a former residence has been converted into a mom and pop business and whose design philosophy comes straight out of the most dedicated DIY practitioner's playbook. Put simply, the interior is a labyrinth of narrow corridors with all shelving placed wherever it will fit, and the wares for sale are stuffed into every available crevice and cubbyhole available.
Becker's Books
In May 2024, at the beginning of a month long sabbatical from my corporate job and working to complete a long term travel itinerary which had by then included the entirety of the Lower 48 and much of Canada, I finally embarked on the 8,000+ mile round trip from Dallas to Anchorage, Alaska and back. I set off on this adventure with the assumption that the entire route of the famous Alaska Highway would be fairly straightforward with no surprises. It was 2024, after all; I anticipated a paved route traveling through a very long stretch of often remote terrain, and no information I had seen about the roadway had seemed to challenge this assumption. Along the way, I had some experiences that are worth sharing. So here are some tips and some things to know before setting off on a road trip to Alaska, based on the experiences of someone who's actually made the trip.
The beginning of the Alaska Highway, in Dawson Creek, BC
Antique postal covers, letterheads, and business cards provide fascinating glimpses into the commerce, politics, and correspondence of earlier eras, so they make interesting collectibles for those of us who appreciate history from a more intimate perspective. Some time ago I acquired an old postal cover for an obscure business concern on Elm Street. This particular envelope bears postmarks of early October with no year, and the logo and return address of J.G. Robinson, manufacturer of decorative art needlework. Dallas has had its share of well known craft and apparel fabricators, but lurking quietly among them were many smaller, more modest outfits whose stories have been forgotten. What was the story of J.S. Robinson Needlework, and of the man behind it?
Just a quick update here concerning an upcoming post. I've recently come into possession of some antique items that require special handling, and these protective gloves should ensure a degree of added safety when it's time to do the photography. I'm looking forward to publishing this particular piece, because it will give some background on a product tied to Dallas history that hasn't gotten a lot of coverage before. Stay tuned...
